


let's just not talk

by naughtyskeletonpuns (badskeletonpuns)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wall Sex, bratty starscream, they're both a little mean but they're both a LOT into it, which is like saying wet water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/naughtyskeletonpuns
Summary: Starscream had to admit, this was not where he had thought showing up to Megatron’s quarters late in the orn with a petty complaint about raid schedules was going to go.Not that he's going to complain about it.(That's a lie, he's absolutely going to complain about it. But he's also going to have a great time.)
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 113





	let's just not talk

**Author's Note:**

> important thank you notes go to first of all, @phase2nemesis and @Cassandrexx on twitter for the wonderful betas!! i can never thank anyone enough for catching my typos and weird phrasings. 
> 
> other thank you note goes to richard siken for his ever-inspiring poetry, specifically, in this case, Wishbone, from his book Crush.
> 
> ANYWAY LET'S GET TO THE GOOD STUFF

“This is a horrible idea,” Starscream got out. Megatron was nipping at his audials, pinpricks of sensation translating into static and pops in Starscream’s voice. “Tell me that I’m right about this and get to say ‘I told you so’ when it all goes horribly wrong.” He clawed at the back of Megatron’s helm, tugging his head back with a screech of metal scraping against metal.

“You’re right,” Megatron growled, capitulating much faster than Starscream would have anticipated. The glory of his victory was undercut when Megatron grabbed his aft in both servos, hefting him into the air and slamming him against the wall. He kissed Starscream again, every inch unchecked power.

Starscream had to restrain a little purr. It was so rare he got exactly what he wanted out of a hookup—all this power at his command, every ounce of it devoted to _ruining_ him . He bit at the top of Megatron’s shoulder and chest, worrying dents into the metal that would take joors to hammer out.

“Mine,” he couldn’t resist snapping, laving his glossa over the marks.

“Possessive little monster,” Megatron murmured, with a tone of reverent appreciation that, honestly, he didn’t have nearly as often as he should when speaking of Starscream. He slipped a powerful thigh up between Starscream’s legs, charge crackling between every inch of panelling.

Starscream writhed under his attentions, pinned between Megatron’s heat and the cold wall of Megatron’s quarters. He rolled his hips down; the dirty grind between him and Megatron was intoxicating, even with his panelling still closed.

Electricity sparked and caught wherever the metal of their armor connected, each shock a new flash of connection.

Megatron slipped finger and thumb into the gaps between Starscream’s hip and thigh armor, pinching at the sensitive cables beneath. It was so close to his interface array, but nowhere near close enough. Starscream whined unabashedly and thrust forward into the sensation.

“Open your panel,” Megatron commanded, still rubbing Starscream’s hydraulics between his fingers.

Starscream manually aborted the immediate prompt from his processor to bare his array within the next klik _. _ “Make me!” he snapped instead.

Megatron hooked a finger under a bundle of wires under Starscream’s hip panelling and tugged. Starscream couldn’t help the whining sound that emitted from him. He wasn’t sure if it was the screech of his cabling under pressure as he tried to steady his movements or his vocalizer, which he had given up any attempt to keep controlled. 

He had to admit, this was not where he had thought showing up to Megatron’s quarters late in the orn with a petty complaint about raid schedules was going to go.

“Are you paying attention, my second?” Megatron squeezed his aft roughly enough to scuff it, and Starscream swallowed the instinctive desire to complain.

“Absolutely,” he cooed instead. Maybe he could use this to his advantage? A little extra polish surely wouldn’t go amiss, and it wasn’t like Megatron would let his air commander wander around so blatantly wearing the marks of their interfacing. And if he objected to the unnecessary expense, well—Starscream could be  _ very _ convincing in berth.

“I feel like you’re lying to me.” Megatron shifted to put a measure of distance between himself and Starscream, and Starscream couldn’t hold back another whine. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“Never, my lord,” Starscream lied.

Megatron huffed out a laugh and rubbed a rough palm over Starscream’s panels. “Of course you wouldn’t. Now, if you don’t open up in the next few kliks I may—”

“Open me up yourself?” Starscream challenged. And it was possible a shiver of want ran through him at the idea of Megatron manually opening Starscream up and taking what he wanted by any means necessary.

“I  _ may,”  _ Megatron continued, ignoring the interruption, “get the wrong idea about this encounter. If you don’t want to bare yourself to me, perhaps you didn’t want to come to my berth tonight at all. Perhaps we should get back to that issue you had about, what was it? Monitor shifts?”

“Raid schedules,” Starscream insisted, because he had a fragging point. It didn’t matter that his panel had snapped open at the mere idea that its closure meant Megatron might stop touching him. Starscream could make his point with the mesh of his valve and spike housing open to the cool air of Megatron’s quarters.

“Lovely,” Megatron rumbled. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it.” He shifted his weight slightly, putting his knee to the wall and his thigh directly in contact with Starscream’s array. “Now, do you want to explain your problem to me or not?”

_ Primus,  _ Megatron’s armor was hot. Literally. Especially in comparison to the chill of the Nemesis itself. Starscream squirmed at the sensation, but all that did was put friction against his anterior node and the external folds of his valve. He went to grind against Megatron’s thigh without a second thought, but Megatron’s hands were on his waist now, stilling him.

“Starscream, I asked you a question.”

Starscream snarled.

“That’s no way to speak to your superior officer, is it?” The depth in Megatron’s tone was staggering. His vocalizers were roughened by decades of shouting, both in the battlefield and at Starscream specifically. Hearing his voice now, low and dangerous, for Starscream and Starscream alone—well. A mech could get used to that.

Better not to let Megatron know how much he liked it, though. A distraction was in order.

Starscream leaned forward to kiss Megatron, biting at his leader’s lips till he tasted energon. It burned, sweet and sharp on his glossa. Megatron kissed back just as roughly, giving as good as he got.

“No patience for debate, I see,” he got out in between kisses.

Starscream should have known Megatron would be just as infuriating during interface as he was during every other moment of their lives.

“Would you just shut up and frag me!” he demanded. He reached for Megatron’s own interface panel, teasing around the edges of it. Either he’d find the manual release or he’d work up Megatron enough that it released automatically. A win-win scenario.

Megatron grabbed Starscream’s wrist, holding it still—not without effort, Starscream was pleased to notice.

“Aren’t you going to ask me nicely?”

“Please?” Starscream drawled, vocalizer dripping with sarcasm. He flicked his wings up, ignoring the way they scraped along the wall. The gleaming metal framed his face and optics very attractively, he knew, and would be more than arresting enough to distract from most of his insubordination.

“Mmm, my mistake.” Megatron tightened his grip on Starscream’s wrist and used it to tug the other bot closer. Friction sent charge racketing through every exposed node on Starscream’s array, and he shivered involuntarily. “Aren’t you going to  _ beg?” _

A laugh burst from Starscream’s audials. “Me?  _ Beg?” _

“Yes,” Megatron said. “You, Starscream.”

Starscream did  _ so _ appreciate his designation spoken by Megatron like that. Perhaps the old mech deserved a little something to keep him satisfied. “Of course, my lord,” he purred, leaning in and running his free servo down Megatron’s chassis. His claws caught on old scars and transformation seams alike, leaving sparks of charge in their wake like miniature fireworks. “Please, please, Megatron, let me in,” he pleaded, rolling his hips down to leave slick lubricant marks along Megatron’s thigh.

And maybe he was overdoing it a little on the breathy moans, but it wasn’t like Megatron was likely to have any idea what he was doing with any Seeker, let alone one like  _ Starscream. _

It was Megatron’s turn to laugh this time, and he dropped Starscream’s wrist in favor of seizing his aft with both servos, holding him in place. “Dear Starscream, don’t you know I know you better than that by now? Now  _ beg, _ and this time I want you to mean it.”

Hm. It was possible Starscream had forgotten about Megatron’s—admittedly out of the berth but still extremely specific—experiences with Starscream, in particular.

Starscream tried to move, but Megatron kept him still. The pressure against the folds and creases of his array without any friction was maddening. He couldn’t get any friction on his anterior node at all, only the hint of heat radiating from Megatron’s panelling. He tipped his head back to look Megatron in the optics, widening his own to look as pitiful and needy as possible.

Letting his wings flick back against the wall in a staccato counterbeat to his voice, he tried again. “Megatron. Let’s just not talk, please. Just open up for me, wouldn’t that be so nice?” Servos now free, Starscream could reach forward without fear to caress Megatron’s panel.

“Not quite, but closer.”

Starscream leaned in as much as he could, pressing his cockpit to Megatron’s chest and biting at the exposed cabling. Electricity arced from the wiring to his glossa until he tasted nothing but ozone and metal.

A jolt of pleasure went through him as Megatron pushed him back, rubbing his sensitive array for just a klik.

“Excellent initiative, my Second, but still not what I asked for. Don’t make me ask again.”

“Fragging pit, I can hear your fans going!” Starscream snapped. “I  _ know _ this is driving you wild!”

Megatron ex-vented. Hot air rushed over Starscream and he couldn’t stop his traitorous frame from arching into the sensation. “Yes,” he admitted, and then quirked an eyebrow ridge. “Unlike you, however, I have the patience to wait for it. I could watch you squirm here for joors.”

Something was making a high-pitched, desperate keening sound. It was several moments before he realized it was him. “Megatron,” he got out. He clawed at whatever he could reach, leaving new gashes as stark silver marks on Megatron’s heavy armor. “Megatron, I’m going to  _ murder you right now _ if you don’t get your fragging spike in my valve!”

“Such language.” But Megatron was smirking and at last, the panels covering his array slid back into the rest of his armor to reveal—quite a sleek little gray valve, actually, Starscream was going to remember that—and a spike, already pressurizing to full size. It was as simple as the rest of his paint job in silver and black, but deliciously ridged and satisfyingly proportionate to Megatron himself. “But I suppose I could be tempted into giving you what you want. If you’re sure you can take it.”

Starscream hissed and dug his claws into Megatron’s arm until energon beaded along them. He wanted to come up with a witty quip in return, but all available processing power was being diverted to the fittings and nodes in his valve, preparing itself to take a spike like Megatron’s.

Megatron hefted Starscream up, away from the friction and heat of Megatron’s frame. Starscream snarled in frustration, writhing in Megatron’s arms in an attempt to get closer to his commander.

“Hold your fire,” Megatron said. He was so Primus-damned  _ calm, _ Starscream really was going to kill him. After he’d overloaded.

But then he was lowering Starscream onto his spike overwhelmingly slowly and every kilowatt of charge on Starscream was grounding in their connection.

Maybe he wouldn’t kill Megatron. After all, the future Lord Starscream would need a consort.

Megatron sank all the way in after what felt like joors, every ridge on his spike lighting up a hundred sensors within Starscream.

“Ready?” he asked Starscream, and started thrusting without waiting for an answer.

Starscream wailed, shameless and loud and out of control. A thousand useless subroutines and vital schemes alike were dismissed immediately, because nothing on Earth or Cybertron or anywhere in between could be anything like this. The wall was scratching his wings and Megatron was getting his rough servos all over his paint and Starscream didn’t give a scrap about any of it.

The sound of Megatron’s spike sliding in and out of him was obscene, but it was nothing compared to the  _ smell _ of the two of them. The tang of ozone intertwined with sweet benzene, and under it all the musk of lubricant and oil so characteristic of interfacing.

Familiar waves of pleasure began thrumming in Starscream’s core; he was beginning to shudder and unravel, and if he overloaded before Megatron after all of this he was going to destroy Megatron and then himself. He slid down Megatron’s spike all the way to the toris joint at the base, circling his hips and flexing the fittings within to tighten and release in time with his rolling movements.

Megatron groaned. The sound reverberated through what felt like Starscream’s whole frame, spark and all, and he couldn’t have stopped his overload to save all of Cybertron. His scream of bliss was cut off by his audials failing, leaving the rest of his overload to wrack him with glitched half-moans and buzzing attempts at words.

In some small consolation, he set Megatron off along with himself. Starscream didn’t know if it was his face, thrown back, optics flickered off in ecstasy and mouth agape, or his wings spread wide and desperate, or his valve clamping down as he came.

Probably all of the above, if Starscream had to guess.

Regardless, Megatron’s hands tightened on Starscream’s hips enough to dent the cherry-red metal and with one last thrust, he emptied his transfluid reserves into the Seeker.

He sagged against Starscream without bothering to pull out, pinning him to the wall. Starscream huffed out steam through his vents and wriggled in vain. “You’re too hot,” he complained, the moment he could make his vocalizer create sound other than static.

“Didn’t hear you saying that two kliks ago,” Megatron said. His voice was rough with static as well, but mostly he just sounded smug as the technocat who got the bitcanary. Primus, he was going to be lording this over Starscream forever.

Unless…

Starscream manually spiralled his fittings in, fluttering the yielding protomesh in and over Megatron’s still half-pressurized spike.

“Why, Megatron, you can’t be done already?” he teased. He could feel every section of Megatron’s spike slowly stiffening within him, even as Megatron didn’t run a single command to move.

Megatron shook his head, and for a klik Starscream thought the slagger was going to pull out and leave him high and—well, definitely not dry. But then he chuckled and pinched at the base of one of Starscream’s wings. Starscream yelped and clenched down on impulse to find that Megatron was all the way hard again.

As he began to rut in and out, his own transfluid and Starscream’s oils leaking out around the rim of his spike, Megatron leaned in to kiss Starscream.

Starscream bit his glossa.

So Megatron growled into his mouth and pinned him to the wall even more roughly than before, and Starscream gave in to the urge to arch his spinal strut and flare his wings, displaying like a young mech trying to get their first ‘facing.

Megatron may not have been versed in the subtle body language of wings, but he was, as he had proved before and would prove again,  _ well _ versed in Starscream.

Perhaps in a joor or so they’d get around to fragging on the berth. Starscream was more than satisfied with the wall for now.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you liked it in the comments or catch me on twitter at [wendymakespuns!](https://twitter.com/wendymakespuns) i am ALWAYS down to talk about megastar or just starscream or, you know, seekers in general.  
> also important note: starscream is lying to himself when he says "there's no way megatron is going to let him walk around with the marks of their interfacing on him" or whatever. megatron will absolutely do so and he'll be incredibly smug about it the whole time.  
> in addition, megatron was like a cool gladiator. he has absolutely hooked up with the seekers before. starscream is just being presumptive and bitchy when he thinks megatron doesn't know what he's doing, because starscream is mean and i love him for it.


End file.
